


You took the time to memorise me

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [10]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jukebox Prompt, Lack of Communication, M/M, Makeup Sex, POV Alternating, Prompt Fill, marital discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: It’s not really clear how it starts. There’s no big fight, no moment they can look back on later and think, 'There. That’s where things went downhill.' But it’s obvious that they haven’t been connecting, euphemistically or emotionally, for a while now.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Songs from the Jukebox [Prompt Fills] [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1775569
Comments: 45
Kudos: 283





	You took the time to memorise me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [samwhambam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwhambam/gifts), [DelilahMcMuffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DelilahMcMuffin/gifts).



> So samwhambam prompted "a low point in David and Patrick’s marriage" and everyone's responses were beautiful and also very painful. Delilah McMuffin riffed off that and prompted "David and Patrick reconnect after a long drought in the bedroom" to make us all feel better, so I wound up combining them because writing the first part made my chest ache. I'm just not good with angst, okay??
> 
> (Also this was a weird experimental thing in terms of the POV of the first section, so... hopefully it worked okay.)
> 
> As always with Jukebox prompts it’s unedited, barely reread, and written on my phone, so apologies for what I’m sure is a multitude of errors.
> 
> Title is from -- who else? -- Taylor Swift.

It’s not really clear how it starts. There’s no big fight, no moment they can look back on later and think,  _ There. That’s where things went downhill. _ But it’s obvious that they haven’t been connecting, euphemistically or emotionally, for a while now. 

David would say,  _ Patrick pulled away. Instead of coming to bed with a book, he stayed up until he was so exhausted he’d go to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow. He started leaving before I got up in the morning. _

Patrick would say,  _ David pulled away. He basically stopped talking to me, except when absolutely required. He’d linger at the store after closing, or go to Stevie’s, or do whatever he could to avoid coming home in the evening. _

David’s always been the needy one in a relationship. Always the one begging for more — more attention, more affection, more anything — and being told in return he’s already  _ too much. _ Patrick has never made him feel like that, not once, but the fear of it paralyses him, stops him from being the one to reach across the metaphorical (and usually literal, these days) gap. 

Patrick can be stubborn when he wants to. He knows this about himself, but it’s never been quite this much to his own detriment before. But this was always the pattern with Rachel: he would fix, fix, fix, even if he didn’t know what needed fixing until they were back to where they were, not quite fitting. He never, ever wants to feel with David the way he did with Rachel, and the idea that resolving… whatever this is (is it a fight if they’re not fighting?) might leave him with that feeling of not-quite-right stops him reaching out at all. 

Unstoppable force meets immovable object. 

David’s chest hurts. It’s not a panic attack, he recognises those now, and he’s pretty sure it’s not a heart attack either. It’s the way he felt watching his parents drive away the morning after their wedding. It’s the feeling he got waving to Alexis as she disappeared through airport security a week later. It’s the feeling of missing someone you love desperately, even though in this case they’re ten feet away from you. 

Patrick’s throat aches. It’s the way he felt when he watched David brush past Rachel, his shoulders hunched. It’s the feeling he got when David burst into the store, arms flying as he talked about New York. It’s the feeling of knowing he needs to have a hard conversation and trying to untangle the words in his head even as they’re trying to force their way out of his mouth. 

It’s not really clear how it ends. One night, David comes home as soon as the store is closed. He picks up dessert, and when he gets home Patrick has just put his mom’s lasagne in the oven. They eat quietly, the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen breaking the silence. And when David finishes his skincare routine and steps into the bedroom Patrick is there, bookmarking his page and placing it carefully down on the nightstand. 

David gets into bed and slowly, carefully tucks into Patrick’s side, as if waiting to be rebuffed. He’s not, though, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. 

“Are we okay?” he whispers, the words muffled where his face is pressed into Patrick’s shoulder. 

Patrick kisses the top of his head. “We will be.”

* * *

They’re careful around each other for the next few days. They kiss, and they touch, but it’s far more deliberate than it was before; a conscious effort to connect. They talk about the distance that sprung up between them and how to stop it happening again, careful not to lay blame on either side. And as they do, the touching comes a little easier.

A few nights later when David slips into bed and tries to rest on Patrick’s shoulder he’s met with a firm hand on his arm. The jolt of fear in his stomach quickly subsides when Patrick pushes him back into the mattress and presses tentative, trailing kisses along his jaw.

This, too, feels deliberate. But it’s the good kind of deliberate, the kind that makes David want to stay in the moment.

It feels a bit like their first time. Which is ridiculous, they’ve been married six years and together for two years before that, and have had a frankly ridiculous amount of sex in that time for two people in their thirties (or forties, now, for one of them at least). They know each other’s bodies inside and out, almost literally. 

But the way Patrick touches him now isn’t the bold, confident touch of someone who knows exactly what David likes. It’s cautious, almost exploratory, the way Patrick was that night at Stevie’s so long ago now; it’s the touch of someone who is trying to memorise every bump and valley of David’s body. 

Lips follow fingers, and tongue follows lips, and it’s almost a surprise when the touch turns from searching to intentional, when Patrick takes the lube from the bedside table without breaking contact with David’s skin. The preparation is far more thorough than usual, slow and steady until David is writhing in the bed, his hands fisted in the sheets, torn between begging for more and never wanting this careful, attentive caretaking to stop. When Patrick finally slips his fingers free and brings his body up to hover over David’s, there’s a love and a wonder in his eyes David didn’t know he’d been missing until this moment.

There’s only one other time David has had this before, this homecoming after misery. As Patrick presses inside him David is suddenly thrust back eight years, to barbecues and the overwhelming feeling of being broken apart and olive branches and being put together again. He squeezes his eyes shut, but he can’t stop the tears from falling no matter how hard he tries.

“David, hey, I can—” Patrick starts to pull away and David grips his arm tight, hard enough to leave a mark.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Please don’t stop. I’m okay. I’m just— we’re okay.” He’s not sure if it’s a statement or a question, but he gets an answer anyway.

“Yeah,” Patrick whispers, kissing him deeply as he starts to move again. “We’re okay, David, I promise.”

And for the first time in weeks, David feels the tightness around his chest start to ease.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com).


End file.
